


Balsam (Ardent Love)

by CBlue



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hades and Persephone Mythology Fusion, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Language of Flowers, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-29 18:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17208458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBlue/pseuds/CBlue
Summary: Shiro, the god of the Underworld, has a simple morning routine that he is allotted on the Earth. With new seasons comes change, and sometimes that change is for the better. Even when it's in the shape of a young god surrounded by foreign blooms.





	Balsam (Ardent Love)

**Author's Note:**

> It was going to be longer but I ran out of energy as I wanted to finish it. If everyone likes it I might write more.

Fresh morning air filled Shiro's ancient lungs as he inhaled deeply. The early sun kissed him good morning on his jog in the early hours. He watched as the fresh spring greens bloomed around his usual path. Colors flitted by him in a blur as he focused on his breathing. Every morning had been the same since the winter snow had thawed. Fresh flowers full of all assortments of colors had trimmed his jogging path and eventually fully bloomed everywhere that green caressed the Earth. He wasn't used to the bright colors cascading pass his vision. It had only been Keith, who had recently taken the mantle that had once belonged to an ancient and outdated god, that allotted Shiro early mornings on the mortal plane.

Shiro had taken every grateful jog allotted to him. Although Keith was fighting Shiro's imprisonment in his own domain, Keith could only do so much with the little time he had. Being the newly appointed god of the skies did take up more of your free time than the young god had originally thought. But Olympus seemed to be all the better for it nevertheless. Mighty forges burned anew and gods from all over united under Keith's rule after the fall of the old god. Shiro was proud of his little brother.

The brightest addition to Shiro's morning routine this spring had to be Lance. Lance, son of Demetra, had taken to watering a small field of varying flowers. The first ones Shiro had noticed were _anemones_. Shiro would not have even known their name had it not been for the tale of Allura crying beautiful tears for Lotor and creating the blooms. The brilliantly colored petals rose in tiny blooms from the Earth as they waved him good morning on that first run of spring. Shiro doubted he would have noticed the man beside the blooms at all had their luminous color not halted his movements. An even more radiant smile that had put even Allura's enchanting complexion to shame had shone toward Shiro with an even heartier wave. Shiro had returned the wave in kind and went about his routine as if nothing had happened.

Again the next day, those same blooms waved to him, and that same stranger. Shiro had not known it was Lance the god of springtime and vegetation. The god of the Underworld once more returned the warming gesture and went about his business. In the grueling dark of the Underworld, Shiro pondered on the beautiful mortal's fondness of the enthralling flowers. He had given a wave of his hand and a roaring lion the size of a mountain appeared. Three heads rushed to meet Shiro's outstretched hand first as they purred beneath his palm. Shiro smiled kindly at his pet companion Kokoro.

"Kokoro." Shiro spoke softly. "I want you to find out about the mortal along my morning path for me." He asked his friend gently. "You know I would if but I could..."

The large lion beast seemed to understand. As if smiling with each head, Kokoro gave a unified nod before turning quickly on her hindquarters and rushing away from Shiro's line of sight. The god of the Underworld felt something odd coil in his stomach as he wondered if knowing about the mortal that had graced his recent mornings would wither away his morning blooms or leave only a bitter honey taste in his mouth.

A few days after that Shiro had jogged passed the mortal, still only ever referring to him as _the mortal_ and only watching from afar as he waited for word from Kokoro, Shiro once again paused in his footsteps as the once luminous blooms were now joined with smaller blooms hidden among the grass. This time, in reverse fashion, Shiro would not have noticed the blooms had it not been for the mortal looking directly at him as opposed to turning his gaze to him as had usually been their routine. The mortal's wide smile beckoned Shiro to take a step toward him.

The Death God paused just short of the grass, remaining on his path. "Good morning." He greeted softly after a moment of shared silence.

The strange mortal giggled into his palm. "Good morning." He returned the greeting. "Enjoying your jog so far?"

"Huh?" Shiro blinked for a moment before a small heat roared under his cheeks. "Ah, yes." He scratched at the back of his ear awkwardly as if to distract himself in some meager way. "Yes, I have." Shiro peered to the stranger's ministrations of the care of the flowers. "What are the smaller ones?"

The stranger raised a peculiar eyebrow looking rather surprised. Shiro himself was surprised by the question that had slipped out without consulting him first. The mortal's smile slid wider across his face, growing impossibly brighter. "They're _epigaea repens_." The strange mortal chuckled. "Most people call them _mayflowers_ or _trailing arbutus_."

" _Epigaea repens_." Shiro repeated as he tested the words. He mirrored the mortal's own laugh. "They match well with the _anemones_." The god gestured with his hand to the aforementioned flowers.

Shiro watched as the mortal's eyes lit up like newly sparked flames. Bright eyes widened with enthusiasm. "Oh, well they aren't used together usually, but I like to grow my garden with me." The stranger beamed. "The _anemones_ mean _anticipation_ and the _repens_ mean _welcome_."

"I haven't seen you before." Shiro began carefully. "Are you new around here?" He inquired.

The mortal stood and brushed the soil from the lap of his pants. He held out his hand in offering to Shiro, even as the poor mortal knew not who he stood before. "Yeah. I'm Lance."

Taking the warm, sun-kissed hand in his own, Shiro smiled shyly. Lance's hands were exactly as he had imagined. Calloused from gardening and tanned from the sun embracing his form every morning. "I'm Shiro."

Just as the garden slowly bloomed, so did the relationship between Lance and Shiro. Kokoro did discover what Shiro had asked of her. Dragging back Pidge, the goddess of wisdom, the lion beast had lathed Shiro with her dark tongues affectionately. Once he had brushed away her panting heads, Pidge had retained his attention with her vast knowledge. She regaled Shiro with the tale of Demetra and her youngest child Lance.

Demerta had birthed four children, and each of them had been gifted a season of harvest. To her oldest she had gifted the summer flowers, to her second born the fall harvest. Her third child had received the berries and trees of the wintertime. Demetra's last born, Lance, she had gifted the season of spring and all its blooms. Lance had finally earned his mother's favor to move about her abode as if it were his own as opposed to watching over the domain from afar.

Knowing this had felt as if it were a pomegranate, fatal and tempting all at once. Even knowing all of this and the slow burn of his heart, Shiro knew nothing would come of it. He would see Lance every morning for the rest of the season until it was time for Lance to leave and his sibling to take his place.

Still, Shiro kept to the routine. With each flower Shiro asked their meanings. He never stood on the grass for fear the blades decaying beneath his feet would give his true identity away. He had no doubt Lance knew who he was, but for now he would remain in a blissfully ignorant bubble. That bubble kept and persevered those quiet moments that made every year without his daily visits worth it. The small field filled with _agrimony_ , _Canterbury bells_ , _arborvitae_ , and _plumeria_. It never failed to amaze Shiro that the blooms grew and flourished under Lance's hand despite their home in an unlikely hemisphere.

Once flowers with beautiful purple, red and blue blooms had started to grow and spread their gentle petals, Lance had been more reluctant to speak of them. He uttered names under a shy breath as the softest of smiles bloomed across his face like the fresh flowers that Shiro barely knew the names of. They continued like this throughout all of the spring season. Every other day a new bud would bloom and Shiro would ask Lance about them. Lance would duck his head and fiddle with the gentle petals between his long, slender fingers before shyly smiling to Shiro and whispering the name as if it were a soft prayer. Shiro could feel the very fires that ran across the Underworld's core blaze beneath his skin with every gaze matched across the field that divided them.

Everyday Shiro could feel his toes inch closer to the blades of grass. One time, his toe had even grazed the soft green that had billowed in the gentle breeze only for it to die and whither beneath his shadow. He had jerked his foot back and nearly stumbled back onto the path. Lance's soft explanation of whatever flower had newly blossomed that day had been cut short, and Shiro had shoved the disappointed look that he thought he had seen strike across Lance's feature from his mind.

As the end of Spring grew near, dread filled Shiro's gut. It would be another year before he could be welcomed to the sight of Lance every morning. It was rather discouraging, and it caused him to be slower in his mornings. Kokoro had nuzzled him awake, forcing him to move along one morning as he had laid in bed. Reluctant to say goodbye, Shiro had wrapped himself in a decaying cocoon to be left alone. At Kokoro's insistence, Shiro had started his morning jog even at the later hour. He was not surprised, but still saddened, to see that he had been too late and Lance had not been there to explain the newest bloom. The god of the Underworld, despite his domain, had recognized the blooms of red and white as _carnations_.

Curious and longing to understand the hidden words behind Lance's meaningful glances, Shiro trod carefully onto the field. He watched as the green died and shriveled brown beneath his heels as he paused just short of Lance's small garden. He reached as far as his limbs would allow and plucked one of the carnations and another purple bundle of blooms that he hadn't recognized until he had pulled it closer to his face. Upon further inspection he remembered that Lance had called them _heliotropes_.

Once Shiro had plucked the blooms, he had fully expected the petals to fall and dry in his grasp. What the god was not expecting was for their colors to fully shine and glimmer from their resting place in his palm. Shiro watched with silent awe as the _carnations_ and _heliotropes_ remained in an unsullied state within his decaying touch. Shiro turned swiftly on his heel as he made fast for his home. Down to the hidden portal to the Underworld Shiro hastened his pace. On his journey to the Underworld, Hunk rushed to his side.

Hunk looked over Shiro's disheveled state with worry. "What's happening?"

Shiro held the blooms up to Hunk's gaze. "Lance left behind these and I'm trying to figure out what they mean." He said quickly before pulling the flowers closer to his chest. "And why they don't whither and waste away in my grasp."

"Lance made them like that." Hunk said matter of factly. "He thought that you'd like to have some flowers since everything other blossoms you touch decay." The god of crafting and metal work raised a curious eyebrow. "He didn't tell you?" He asked softly.

"No." Shiro shook his head. "He didn't." A soft smile spread across to each of his cheeks before he looked to Hunk again, tearing his gaze away from the flowers. "Where is Lance now?"

Hunk chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. "I think you should know what those mean before you do anything else, Shiro..."

Looking to the soft blooms in his hand and envisioning Lance's own calloused fingers shifting in their place, Shiro beamed. "I think I already know." His heart blazed with an emboldened fire as he looked imploringly to Hunk again. Hunk let out a soft chuckle and nodded in agreement.

"He's down by the river." He pointed a large hand down a winding path. "Good luck." Hunk waved and returned to his duties after gifting Shiro with that simple wish of good fortune.

Following Hunk's guiding words down the long path, Shiro's stepped slowed with trepidation the closer he came to the lone figure beside the river. It's slender form, even from a distance, was so recognizable to Shiro. He huffed a soft laugh before closing the distance some more. "Hey." He called softly.

Lance jerked up from his spot and looked to Shiro with wide eyes. "Shiro!" He beamed shyly before ducking his head. "I wasn't expecting you here." Lance stood to his full height, brushing his pants in a familiar tick. "I missed you on your jog this morning." The god of springtime confessed softly.

Shiro's features softened as he moved ever so closer to the young god. "I missed you too." He whispered the mirrored confession like a well kept secret. Shiro held out his hands, offering the well kept blooms. "You made these for me, didn't you?"

Red like the roses he had been growing beside the river, Lance's cheeks were painted like the flowers that surrounded him. "I... that is..." he gaped for a moment, "Shiro, I-"

"I know." Shiro whispered again, this time closing the space between them almost completely. "At least, I think I do." His gaze swept up and down, measuring Lance's features and trying to memorize them. From the corner of Shiro's eyes he spotted a lily of sorts just by the bedside of the river. He bent down, plucking the flower from its bed. He smiled when even this bloom had kept to his touch. Shiro's eyes twinkled as he offered the flower to Lance.

Lance raised a gentle, but curious eyebrow as he reached for the rainflower. "What-?"

" _Zephyranthes_ , right?" Shiro asked softly. "They call them rainflowers. They're named after the god of the west wind." This time, it was Shiro's gentle words that explained the delicate bloom in Lance's hand. Shiro pierced Lance's questioning gaze with his own determined one. "They mean a lot of things."

"Yes," Lance had breathed softly, "they usually mean atonement, or remembrance or-"

Shiro ducked his head shyly. "Returned affection?" He had meant to sound more confident in it, but the lit to his tone bled through his charade of confidence and left only uncertainty and hope between the two.

Lance's lips quirked into a gentle smile as he plucked one of the roses beside him from the ground and held it aloft to Shiro. "Roses have different meanings." The god whispered. "I've always loved lavender the most, though." If there was any space between the two before, there no longer was any ground between the god of death and the god of springtime. "Lavender means love at first sight."

Swallowing harshly, Shiro rested his forehead gently against Lance's own. "I think I like lavender the most too." He whispered gently against Lance's lips as he idly wondered if they were soft as the petals he grew.

Nodding against him, Lance smiled brightly. "You could kiss me now, if you wanted to."

Just like he had done before, Shiro plucked soft tulips from their place, and exhaled as they kissed his skin like silk.


End file.
